Pages

a terrible painter, a dreamer, a rebel , a feminist and a self certified bisexual Witch. Who is always trying to visualize whats on the other side of the canvas she paints,just another human- Living alive Life. Now also a green tea addict.

Wednesday, 26 February 2014

Theory of creation has various ideas some say humans were
born from the reaction that happened in ether, other say we were created by
certain gardener who later kicked us out, another tells we were created out
from the drop of sweat or the tale of two brothers who created us with left over
raw materials from their earlier creations. The most fascinating idea is the
theory of creation is human were born from music. A certain deity played her
drums and the beautiful vibrations created us. Music has always played a
significant role in the development of culture around the world. Music is the
universal link which can never be confined or separated, it spreads like forest
fire. We cannot imagine a world where we have no music be it Classical or Sufi
to Instrumental or Rap.

We have classical music around the world which commoners
don’t understand and often find boring. We have popular music which the elite
discard as unrefined. Heavy metal artist are often thought as the agents of
Satan and have accumulated haters around the world. Recent Bollywood
chartbusters are often misogynistic and attain the scared place of vulgarity
with the video. Our change of taste and degradation is well caught by music
after our films. We still crave for old music from the 50’s but forget the
contemporary music. Music like everything else has become a commodity in the
era of globalisation and it presents our taste and attitude of one region in
another part of world.

The worst scenario music has seen is that people have found
the glorification of depressed self in her beautiful lyrics. Bands Linkin Park
has become the mouthpiece of frustrated youths who hardly catch the words yet
claim to be its biggest fans, though the band has various pieces. Each of us
carry the transferred frustration and share it with pride not knowing the
reason. The barque culture has found its zenith in the minds of contemporary
listeners. We find self-proclaimed bands which use very contemporary imageries
and metaphor and force it into beautiful music. Every other person these days
holds a guitar despite having an innate understanding or not. Detailed
understanding of music has evaporated and finding grim meaning has become
global obsession.

Many of us synonymised the word ‘IPod’ with portable music
players, same thing happens with us in our quest to understand music. Few of us
have real understanding of music and we have ignorant followers behind us. The
purpose of music was never to create depressed souls. Even in heavy metal or
acoustics the purpose of music is same to elevate and relax us as well as carry
a message. Music catches the undertone of life and society. But music mania has
broken its bounds and actually created a pseudo-class of music experts.

Even an Nano can kill us.

This music mania has created a very big problem, which we can
find around the country. Every cell phone in

the country comes with its own
music player and every owner has the magical device called as headphones or
earphones. People commuting in Metros stuff their ears with headphones and
listen to music played on FM’s or their own collection. With those stuffed ears
they lean at the doors of metro and calmly listen to their precious music.
People have developed a brave heart like lion and dare to cross the busy
streets with music ringing in their head. This headphone mania was first
captured in the movie Saathiya where we find Vivek Oberoi riding his motor bike
and headphones hiding under his helmet. Few months back a boy of twelve or
thirteen almost got crushed under our car as he was riding his bicycle
listening to Bon Jovi. Another trend of music lies in claiming “Music Is My
Life” in introducing one to other; lyrics become status updates and the voice
of broken hearts. Suddenly popular music has become a banner to hold up and
umbrella to stay under. Young children as old as ten wear John Lennon T-shirts
and have no idea about Beatles but carry a gloomy face of eternal suffer and
huge headphones hiding their baby paces. But the headphone mania is not a
feature of the youth alone. Middle aged people who are shaking like bamboo
trees inside the jerking bus have headphones inside their ears. They often
don’t listen to people who ask them give space and frown in return when seeked.
We once found a really disappointed traffic police actually snatching away the
headphones from the ear of a woman who was sitting at the front seat of auto
and holding a child to lap. Miscellaneous examples like this rise doubt if we
were created with the music of life or music of destruction. The number of
headphone stuffed ears is considerably large, it’s not few individuals but many
we find in buses, trains, shops, colleges, streets and where not. What has
music come down to be, the fearful question that terrifies us?

P.S- Ignorance is bliss as I don't understand one bit of music hence I listen to anime music and sleep happily. .

Saturday, 8 February 2014

American teenage rom-com movies end with the chase to prom
night. The night which appears to be all about dancing and glitters, all the
girls are in beautiful gowns and boys in tuxedos. They take limos to enjoy the
time of their lives. Alas nothing of this sort happens in India other than in
Kjo’s movies. Colleges in our state are hell bent to turn into a puritan
allegory, so from this context prom night is a far away dream in Indian
reality.

Still we have our share of romantic day where we can all be beautiful
and pumped to the heights. It’s not a prom night but a day to worship the
goddess of wisdom. Basant Panchami is celebrated throughout the country,
somewhere in more glory and others in delight. On this day my state and other
states of East India celebrate Saraswati Puja. Luckily this day is not
exclusive to senior year students of high-school, but an event celebrated by
all. From a tyke to old lady celebrate the grace of goddess. This day is also
known as the Indian Valentines or to be exact Bengali’s Valentine.

We have grown up to look forward to this day; one wakes up
and bathes then puts her books at the feet of goddess. We place inkpots filled
with curd and pen made out of Khaag and Kul (Ber in Hindi) aka Indian Plum on
it. Every home celebrates and worships, young girls and boys run around the
town to collect chanda (donation) to hold their own little pujas at the turn of
lanes, or under garage, under trees any place that looks clean. So this puja too
was celebrated in our home like any other household. Only difference with other
households is that our Mother-daughter duo deliberately chooses small idols as
they looked cute on the altar.

So on 4th feb of this year we again
celebrated puja and asked goddess for her blessings. I hope she listens to us
this time, as I am the last sapling in the family who is still in the bed of
education. Our Brahmin came and did all the rituals and our puja was
accompanied by my neighbour cum classmate and her friend and our cook’s two
sons. Those brats actually brought their huge schoolbags. The huge numbers of
books almost hid our little goddess. Finally puja came to end after the Arati
and we got the Charnamrita (something like holy water only taster) to end the
fast with. My mother laid plates of prashad but my eyes were glued to the
orange ball of wet sugary laddu. Everybody left and my real romantic journey
started for the day.

Since on this day most of the girls opt to be traditionally
draped in Saree, I had escaped the torture of saree for last two years of
college. First year, I did not step out of home, second year I went berserk
with my own weird look like a Gypsy. So this year I had no escape but to show
my face in saree. On this day couples find it very romantic to roam around on
their bikes, everywhere one looks one can see colourful pairs or group of
lovers. Here I was the eternal single who had no boyfriend or girlfriend to
call as her lover by my side. I had wanted to avoid this day, it at times
appears to me as a competition to look best and if you had a lover, you were
the unofficial king and queen. Since it was open to all, you actually find
yourself staring at twelve year old girl freshly developing chest in
Mekhella or a really curvy woman of
twenty seven in Dokhna. You are being stared and you stare. It is a exhibition
of looks over worship. Since my Pink College is so caring, we hold our own
puja, so all the girls and boys come in their best dresses to worship the white
goddess sitting on swan.

So past month I had nagged my parents to consent into my
plans, I had a reputation to keep as Ice Princess of College. Few days back I
bagged the Best Orator and I had been the host to college annual festival for
consecutive three years. I had my juniors looking upto me, so in short I was
irritated and wanted to avoid the day. But certain someone who was born before
me called up and forced me to drag my body out of the warm bed. Being a tomboy
has its own positive effect, it didn’t matter if I had the feminine grace or
not. So with brave heart I was draped in my sister’s saree with help of a
neighbour’s sister and my mom. This was my last year in college, so I had to
look good without realising I was entering the open battle of dresses. To my
amazement I looked pretty good for an ugly duckling with piggy nose. There was
this old man my father who kept forgetting I was a twenty year old adult and
kept entering my room while I pampered myself in last hopes of backing my plan
down. So here I was in a beautiful
saree, beautiful junk jewellery, a hairstyle copied from magazine showing off
my new beauty to my father. The only question my old man was worried about was
shoes. When he saw my block heel shoes, his eyes grew large in fear.

This event is also a
wonderful day to make new friends and actually find out who adores you. The
most hurtful part of our Indian Valentines was the hurtful look one gets from
couples who find it really sad that you have no lover and enter the grand gate
alone. So how can eternal lover like me who falls in love with every other
person enter the huge gate alone? There was no question of going in a
rickskhaw, my walking mate had abandoned me for her lover. The weather was too
cold compared to other days, Assam really has weird climate, so despite
shivering in cold girls chose not to wear sweater. Looks matter, so I too
decided against sweater and my old man was telling health comes before
brainless style. Well it would be a blunt lie, if I had not planned my grand
entrance in advance, the question few of my friends kept asking me with whom
was I going. I had my own sources, I was not going to hire paid boyfriend or
girlfriend, nor was I creating a cyborg or conjuring succubus.

Finally I was ready to enter the battle of dresses, in my
saree and heel shoe I took small feet towards our garage to take my car out. My
father was repeating that it was dangerous on the turn and my shoes were too
bad for driving. He finally calmed down when I showed him that I was carrying
flat shoes with me to drive. My mother from balcony kept praying for safety, I
am a very safe driver not at all rash like my elder sister. So there was no
question of my car running at fourth gear. The path to my college from home was
five minutes. My suspense novelist of a grandmother was not informed about my
bold gesture to drive this brand new car in saree. My zealous sister was
cheering me from her home far away from here. So without any delay I rushed out
my car, in case my old man had change of mind.

the trees under which we sat

see what I meant?

colourful people

Khidchi time

Oh yes Media was there too, I was on television for three seconds.

On road, my car like a good tamed horse took graceful turns
and overtook herd of white goats that were morphed within the thick fog. I left
home at twelve, yet sun god was hiding it was as chilly as early morning. After
having a concert of blowing horns I finally entered the college gates. The guys
with bike craned their necks to find out who was this daddy’s pampered boy. The
look on their face was priceless when they found me inside. There few of my
classmates at the entrance, I overtook my professor’s car and parked it
perfectly. But before stepping out I changed back to my block heels so that my
short height could be enhanced by few inches. Alas I forget I couldn’t walk in
heels, so very awkwardly I entered the main gate with a huge smile and gathered
the sceptical and surprising looks on their faces. There are moments one wants to
reply in life again and again, this particular moment I would have replayed it
till end of time.

I was greeted with my major mates and friends. The most
common reaction I got was “Aaj bilkul Ladki lag rahi hai tu” (Today you look
like an actual girl). But who knew this dialogue was going to haunt me all day.
My professor said I was the reason Sun god didnot come out that day. I got
complimented on loosing weight and having a wonderful smile by crush and her
boyfriend got jealous at my blushing face. I was enquired if I came alone which
was obvious, people got surprised that I drove car wearing saree. What amazed
me most was its still a big deal if girls drive car. So I went and prayed to
the white Goddess and roamed around with groups of friends. I am a bohemian soul;
I cannot stick to one group for long. So I kept partner hopping and kicking
guys in shin for passing terrible jokes at my expense. We ate Khichidi the
divine food of any puja, which according to my surprise was not as terrible as
last years. At least I settled for the role of cameraman, I took pictures of
everyone and kept changing partners and chasing people for photos. Funny thing
about having camera is that, one is never alone; I had various subjects to
click. One certain couple whose photograph I had taken and uploaded on Facebook
are now pissed off with me. Over all, I was not bothered with the question of
having a partner or not. But with my looks I would actually give myself a place
in top ten best dressed in college. I am not a narcissist but a very observant
person.

But like Cinderella
had to rush back home before twelve, my fairy mother kept texting me to come
back home by four. As the bypass road got busier with monstrous trucks and
buses and this first time I had the car all to myself . I could
clearly picture my old man in his monkey cap under the blanket irritating my
mother about my coming back. So I had to excuse myself from my friends that I
had to go home early. The day when I was at peak of my popularity, I was again
forced back by my twisted fate to retrieve my wax wings.

Again I dragged out
my car and went the same way where now the fog had disappeared but sunlight was
scare. The goats had found a warm place and I had created a traffic jam behind
me. Due to my Old man’s continuous driving tips and the inherited fear of my
satirical family, I drove pretty slow, and did not allow any car to overtake
me. Though few bike did cross me with their sexy lovers clinging to them in
cold. As I parked my care near our home, I saw my mother standing in balcony
and smiling and talking to our neighbour who was telling me how worried I was.
As if I did not know what my weird family was made off. I left the trouble of
entering car in the garage to my father and entered the house in victory
gaining no crown or lover yet forever happy.

P.S- Driving in Saree is really tough, and this tale of driving will come in Drive a Vu series later.

Sunday, 2 February 2014

Issue 9 opens again in an occult ceremony, where hooded men
offer the five elements to raise the Hashisheen (ancient Persian assassins) from
the land of dead and sinners. A bald and greenish grey man raises our
Antagonist for this arc. He is branded
with various marks and has yellow eyes. Our Hashisheen is summoned by a man who
refuses to give his name and asks him to kill the people whose names are on the
paper. He is asked to erase their bloodlines from the earth. Next pages we find
a handsome Kris being pushed to tracks. A seventy year old man Avi Dada killed
on his birthday followed by Big Mak. Our Hashisheen finally goes to kill his easiest
and last target a baby in cradle. But as his soliloquy ends he is stabbed by
Vira. Vira saves the baby while our Krona kills other of Hashisheen’s comrade
on roof top and Desh killing rest on the road. Our antagonist escapes to his
master who asks him to avoid Vira and finish his task. He disobeys his summoner
and moves to seek his entertainment in Vira.

The hooded figures reminds of various movies and horror
shows. It specially reminds of a particular scene from Harry Potter and Goblet
of Fire. Frankly a reader would have no idea what Hashisheen is unless we seek
google god. Hashisheen is our ideal Antagonist, the fallen being, scary face
and an air of arrogance. His eyes are beautifully done yellow and dangerous. He
has a magician’s hat and has belly in place of a toned abs. His physic is a
contrasting one to that of Vira’s. The art work of Krish was adorable; in few
panels you really wanted him to be alive and not dead. Avi Dada’s death evokes
sadness. He really looks sad and empty sitting alone. Big Mak really provides
no clue to reveal secrets of this story, yet he is well drawn. The blood
spurting out is wonderful panel. The expression of the stabbed Hashisheen is of
confusion and fear- awesome. It appears our Krona despite getting his innocence
has grown up faster. The boy is taller and muscular at age of twelve going on
thirteen (what’s his age again?). Desh really has beautiful hair and manly
face. We missed Ashwin, alas he has work to do. When did Krona get his ears
pierced and got his hair spiked? The question here arise what’s the time leap
in this arc? The baby in wrapped in pink towel is really cute let’s hope it’s a
she. After all she is the last one of
bloodlines. The expression of fear in the face of our summoner is really good.
His face reminds me of the evil wizard from Aghori Book 4, who first tried to
wake our main antagonist Kali. But his face is burned which has come from
Balnath’s attack. Yet he has survived centuries, so we can understand his
desperation to avoid Vira and finish the bloodlines. The artwork has developed
and colour scheme is splendid. But the best artwork of the book is its cover.
Bloodlines comes with a surprise at its end too... “That Man Solomon”

This issue arise many questions in readers. Firstly what
bloodlines are we talking about? Secondly why Hashisheen? Thirdly what’s the
time scale, as we can clearly see our Krona has entered teens and his features
are way to manly? Fourthly who is Desh and if he was even with Vira in book-4,
why is he helping now? Fifthly what’s the name of evil conjurer? Finally where
is Ashwin? Hell yeah we have loads of question to ask and the story ended way
too fast like previous book.

Issue- 9 gets: - 3.5 out of 5 (we deducted .5 for ending it
too fast)

Series- That Man Solomon

Book-I:- Issue- 1

Writer- Sudeep Menon

Artist- Gaurav Shrivastav

Not the actual cover

The first Issue opens in the 80’s, the Bombay now Mumbai.
The Gate Way of India, the only Female Prime Minister, Kapil Dev and the Angry
Young Man all come in one page in consecutive panels of beautiful colour. We are taken to the Bombay which came up
after Jeet Tahyil’s Bombay. The city of dreams had its own shadows. The youth
dying in gang-war and we enter the den of a crime lord. From the den we get a
peek of pillow talk too. Rajan Shetty wants Yusuf Pathan dead for killing his
brother. Rajan Shetty sits with his adviser and bedding lady. We find our not
so tall, but rough guy -Solomon. He loves to joke, eat, drink and off course
fuck and is a Sridevi fan. He loves to dance and go jiggy iggy with bar dancers.
Our perfect criminal is hired to kill Gosht Baba aka Yusuf. After months of
planning and plotting Solomon finds out Yusuf’s weakness from
Slow-motion-Shardul. The third W was his weakness. A sadist is what we can call
Yusuf when we find him tied and in pink blouse. Solomon claded in Hijab kills
his target only to find both our gangsters had same bed warmer. Our lady- Sorja
meets tragic end and a gruesome one with Solomon singing “Kabhi Alvida Na
Khena”

The artwork beautifully creates the 80’s and the world crazy
after movies. The hairstyle, the white shirt, white trouser and white shoe that
Solomon wore showed the white mania. The colour scheme gives a sense of the 80’s.
The use of Chutney Language and desi gali makes one feel enter a really shitty
world. Solomon is the man we will love to hate. He knows he is a sinner and
hence he is free of any moral obligation. The woman of the story- Sorja, her
role was predictable to an extent. She is a man’s dream beautiful, bountiful,
acts like a damsel yet is a bitch. I fell in love with her wickedness and
ambition, though her death makes the reader shiver. The best panel of the issue is a short Solomon
hugging a tall Sorja, it creates both laughter and pity at same moment. That
Man Solomon is all about this son of a bitch, we will hate him, loathe him but
won’t forget him. The question this flagship character raises is- What is this
man made of? Yes we also want to know why he has the gate of hell in his godown
too. Overall Solomon has given us a powerful beginning, so we can hope that his
story will move to and fro in past and present.

Simply Witchy Me

All I can describe myself is, I am a Tame Less Tempest, Aim-Less Learner, never aware of what I want.
Born Blank, Raised Ordinary, Lived Ignorant, BUT CATCHING UP my life is a celebration of Books, Friendship, Solitude, Observation, Education and Curiosity.
My life is a toast to living without guilt"- hence I am still Clue Less of what I want.